The Last Will And Testament Of Arthur Woodhouse
by Red Witch
Summary: The old valet gets the last laugh.


**The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has gone to a lawyer's office. Just an imagining of how things would go during…**

 **The Last Will And Testament of Arthur Woodhouse **

"I can't believe this is happening," Mallory sniffed as the Figgis Agency sat in their conference room.

"We buried Woodhouse **weeks ago** ," Cheryl gave her a look. "This can't be **that much** of a shock!"

"No, I mean I can't believe Woodhouse had **anything** to **give away** much less a will," Mallory said. "The man wasn't exactly a genius with money. Finding new and interesting ways to smuggle heroin into the country, yes…Saving money, no."

"The fact that he was still a servant in his eighties was kind of a clue," Pam admitted. "This is exciting! I've never really been at an actual will reading before. Not one with a lawyer and all. The best we ever get in the Poovey family is some notes on the items left behind or whoever makes it back to the house first."

"Honestly that sounds more interesting than listening to will readings," Cheryl groaned as she powered her nose. "I've been to more of these things than to actual parties. Seven times out of ten they are sooo **boring**! _I leave my fortune to this person or charity! I leave my fortune to that person or charity! Burn down my house so my bitch of an ex-wife can't have it! Blah, blah, blah!"_

Cheryl looked at the others. "I mean every now and then you get a good one where some old bat just tells everyone off. But for the most part they're dull and they won't even let you get a decent drink until after the stupid will is read."

"Which reminds me," Mallory refilled her glass with a bottle of scotch on the table and took a sip.

"Yes, you do need your nine in the morning refill," Ray quipped.

"I was referring to why the hell are you idiots **present** at this will reading?" Mallory snapped. "The only important people in Woodhouse's life were me and Sterling. Lana I can understand because she's the closest thing Sterling had to a stable girlfriend as well as AJ's mother but the **rest** of you…"

"I know, this is a surprise," Ron Cadillac walked in with a dark haired twenty something man in a brown suit and glasses. The young man was carrying a large brown briefcase.

"Hey! Ron!" Pam called out. "Welcome to the party!"

"Hi Ron! Hey Ron! Ron!" Ray, Cheryl and Krieger called out cheerfully.

"Why is **he** here?" Mallory pointed to Ron.

"Apparently I'm in the will," Ron shrugged as he sat down at the table across from his wife. "I'm just as surprised as you are."

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"Okay maybe I'm **not** as surprised as you are?" Ron quipped.

"Ooh," Cheryl perked up with interest. "This will reading sounds like a fun one already!"

"Why are **you** in the will?" Mallory snapped. She looked at the young man. "Who are you?"

"I'm Samuel Finch," The young man said in a British accent. "I'm from Samuelson, Finch, Finch and Finch from London. Mr. Woodhouse updated his will a few years ago with my grandfather Mr. Finch and since I have taken over his partnership, the reading of the will falls to me."

"Then tell me why my bastard husband is here?" Mallory snapped.

"I was instructed to call him to make sure he attended these proceedings," Mr. Finch sat down. "As per the wishes of Mr. Woodhouse."

"Fine," Mallory scoffed. "Get on with it."

"Hey!" Pam snapped. "How about some manners first? Finch you want some scotch?"

"It's nine thirty in the morning," Mr. Finch blinked.

"Aren't you on British time?" Mallory asked.

"My wife believes it's always five O'clock somewhere," Ron explained.

"More like Scotch and Wine O'clock somewhere," Cheryl scoffed.

"I think it might be best to press on," Mr. Finch coughed as he took out some papers from his briefcase.

"Good idea," Cyril sighed. "A word of warning, this group doesn't exactly have the world's largest attention span. So you might want to just keep it moving."

Mr. Finch coughed as he read the paper. "I Arthur Woodhouse being of sound mind and body hereby bequeath the following items and terms as my last will and testament. Before I do so, I would like to say a few words…"

"What? Are you hourly?" Mallory asked.

"I'm reading the words **Mr. Woodhouse** wrote," Mr. Finch explained. "He wants to **say** a few words before we get on to the bequests. I'm just reading them."

"Yeah, yeah…" Cheryl rolled her eyes. "We get how wills work! Get on with it!"

"First, I would like to say a few words about Mr. Sterling Archer," Mr. Finch read. "Unless he is not in the room due to some unforeseen event. If Mr. Archer is not present during the time of the reading of this will due to circumstances…Of either being drunk on a bender or being in a coma because he was shot by a former lover or a husband of a former lover…"

"Wow!" Ray blinked. "That's pretty spot on."

"He knew Archer all right," Cyril nodded.

"Then the part about Mr. Archer shall be skipped to the end," Mr. Finch read. "Keep the others in suspense. Besides why should everyone else wait for him? He tends to drag things out anyway so for once he's going to have to wait."

"Really knew the man," Cyril nodded.

"I leave these items to the following individuals," Mr. Finch read. "First the business of the tontine…Oh dear…"

"I know, right?" Cheryl giggled.

"The tontine…" Mr. Finch explained. "Thanks to compound interest has grown to over a million dollars. And it appears that Mr. Woodhouse was the last survivor of the tontine."

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted. "Woodhouse inherited over _a million dollars?"_

"Yes, he was the last of the famed Double Deuce," Mr. Finch said. "Apparently the second to last survivor died of a heart attack in New Jersey so…"

"Holy Tontine Snacks!" Pam gasped.

"Is that a lot?" Cheryl asked.

"For a butler! Yes!" Krieger said.

"A million is a lot for anybody!" Cyril said.

"Yes well…" Mr. Finch paused. "Apparently that's what caused Mr. Woodhouse to go on a final bender so to speak. He was both celebrating and mourning. So…"

"So, who does the money go to?" Lana asked. "Now that Woodhouse is dead?"

"The fortune will then pass to my brother Richard 'Dicky' Woodhouse," Mr. Finch read.

"Well he's dead," Lana said.

Pam explained. "Mr. Archer refused to even tell him that his brother died years ago because he didn't want to give him the time off!"

"If Dicky passes away before I do, then the fortune passes to The RAF Benevolent Fund," Mr. Finch read.

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted. "Woodhouse is leaving over a **million dollars** to some veterans he doesn't even **know?** How can you do this to me?"

"You do realize I had nothing to do with this right?" Mr. Finch blinked. "I'm just the lawyer. I'm only reading what Woodhouse wrote!"

"Damn Woodhouse's bleeding heart!" Mallory fumed. "If he wasn't already dead it would be **literally bleeding**!"

"Just move on Mr. Finch," Cyril sighed.

"To Ms. Lana Kane," Mr. Finch read. "I am bequeathing my mother's diamond ring. I never got around to getting married…"

"Quelle surprise," Mallory grumbled.

"And since you were the only woman to at the very least make Master Archer stop forcing me to eat spider webs," Mr. Finch read on. "I want you to have it. Perhaps one day Mr. Archer will finally come to his senses and make an honest woman out of you? Although I would not hold my breath on that."

"Oh, that's so…" Lana sniffed as Mr. Finch handed her a box. She opened it. "Hang on, where's the diamond on this thing?"

"Sorry, I pawned the diamond years ago for some China Smack," Mr. Finch read. "But the band is 14 karat gold. And it is a nice setting."

"Well it's the thought that counts," Lana sighed. "And it is a nice ring."

"It's the thought that stinks!" Mallory bristled. "Get to me!"

"To Mr. Ron Cadillac," Mr. Finch began.

"Oh, for Christ's sake!" Mallory grumbled as she took a drink.

"I didn't know you long but you were able to make Ms. Archer happy," Mr. Finch read. "Even if only for a few moments. An extremely rare feat. Honestly, I never thought I would see Ma'am married. Ever. Especially after that one party in London with the Italian Cardinal, the dwarves and…"

"BAP! BAP! BAP!" Mallory interrupted. "No one wants to hear all that!"

"We do!" Ray snapped.

"He has to read the will!" Pam snapped. "Right Mr. Lawyer?"

"Yes," Mr. Finch said. Then he went on. "That tub of chocolate pudding in the vestibule of Saint Mary Magdalene Cathedral…"

"WHAT?" Ron shouted.

"Oh, for the love of…" Mallory winced before taking another drink.

"And that brief weekend she spent with Jimmy Hoffa before he disappeared," Mr. Finch read on. "Right before she had a torrid affair with two other mob bosses at the same time. And of course, her forty something on and off affairs with both Len Trexler and the head of the KGB… **WHAT**?"

"Yeah Ms. Archer gets around more than a hooker on a cruise ship," Cheryl laughed.

"It says here that she's had more men than the Royal Navy," Mr. Finch blinked.

"I believe it," Ron groaned.

"Is this a will or a roast?" Mallory snapped.

"I don't smell anything burning so…" Krieger looked around.

"To Ron Cadillac I leave two things," Mr. Finch took out some items. "One, a penknife I carried with me back in the old days. And second my old service revolver. You might need these to defend yourself against Ms. Archer…"

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"Very perceptive man Woodhouse," Ron took the items.

"To Mr. Cyril Figgis…" Mr. Finch read.

"WHAT?" Everyone else said.

 _"Him?"_ Lana pointed to Cyril.

"You know…?" Cyril looked at her.

"I leave my pocket watch," Mr. Finch handed it to Cyril. "I always felt a bit sorry for you Mr. Figgis. I know how hard it is when Mr. Archer bullies you. I thought you should have this. To remember that sometimes service is its own reward."

"Well that was nice of him," Cyril took the watch and looked at it. "Nice watch."

"Don't bother trying to pawn it," Mr. Finch read. "I had it appraised and it's a knockoff reproduction not even worth twenty dollars. Especially since I sold some of the copper gears for smack so it doesn't work."

"Damn," Cyril sighed as he put the watch away.

"Still a nice watch," Ray said. "Even if it is only right twice a day."

"To Miss Pamela Poovey," Mr. Finch read.

 _"Seriously?"_ Mallory snapped.

"I shall always treasure that night in Tunt Manor," Mr. Finch read, his eyes widening. "You, Ms. Tunt, me, and some cocaine. That was some of the best sex and smack I ever had."

"Wait **what**?" Cheryl did a double take.

"I'm giving you my cookbook full of my favorite recipes," Mr. Finch pulled out the cookbook. "Including my Eggs Woodhouse."

"Score!" Pam whooped as she took it.

"It is the least I can do," Mr. Finch read. "After that wonderful night you showed me how to make whipped cocaine and we licked it off all our bodies. All three of us…"

"Wait a minute…" Cheryl did a double take. "Are you saying I had sex with that old wrinkled…? EWWWW!"

"You're right Cheryl," Cyril laughed. "This **is** a fun one!"

"I can't believe I was so out of my mind I had sex with Woodhouse!" Cheryl snapped.

"What do **you** care?" Ray asked. "You're not going to remember it anyway!"

"You don't remember **half** the things you've done!" Pam agreed. "Or half the people you've done."

"To Ms. Cheryl and/or Carol Tunt…" Mr. Finch read, clearly getting more uncomfortable. "I leave you the handcuffs that we used that night. You admired them so I leave them to you. Took them off a German officer during the war. After I scalped him."

"Oh right…" Cheryl realized as she saw the handcuffs Mr. Finch gave her. "Now it's coming back to me…"

"Even though you were technically blackmailing me for sex," Mr. Finch did a double take. "I still enjoyed our night together with Ms. Poovey."

"I blackmailed _him?"_ Cheryl blinked. "I don't remember that part!"

"To be fair," Cyril looked at her. "The blackmail thing **does** sound like you!"

"In case you have forgotten," Mr. Finch read. "And most likely you have…I let you into Master Archer's apartment from time to time so you could either steal his underwear, take pictures while he was asleep…And one time shot him in the buttocks…All in exchange for enough money to buy some heroin with."

"Ooooh right!" Cheryl realized. " **Now** I remember! Phew! I was a little worried there for a moment."

"I'm kind of worried now," Ray said.

"Seriously Cheryl," Lana said. "We really need to talk about your drug induced blackouts. And personality changes."

"Eh forget about it," Cheryl waved as she played with the handcuffs.

"That's kind of our **point,** " Lana said.

"Uhhh…." Mr. Finch looked disturbed.

"You'd better keep reading," Ron told him. "This isn't exactly the most focused group in the world."

"Depends on what drugs we take and how many," Krieger spoke up.

"O-kay," Mr. Finch looked at the watch. "To Mr. Raymond Q. Gillette…"

"I don't freaking **believe this** ," Mallory grumbled.

"I leave you the pocket watch of my dear friend Reggie," Mr. Finch took out another pocket watch. "He was very special to me. I hope you find someone special too! Especially after that wonderful night we shared in that bathroom in Tunt Manor."

"Oh, for the love of God," Mallory groaned.

"Aww," Ray took it. "I think I'll actually keep this one. Pocket watches don't go for much anyway."

"I don't know," Cyril said. "A good old pocket watch can go for some good scratch."

"Well not if some of the gears are missing," Ray noticed as he opened it up. "And one of the hands."

"Sorry about the state of the watch," Mr. Finch read. "There were a few incidents aboard a Chinese freighter, some pirates in the orient and some prostitutes."

"It happens," Ray shrugged as he put the watch away.

"To Doctor Algernop Krieger," Mr. Finch read.

"OH, COME ON!" Mallory shouted.

"I leave you all rights and trademarks and profits of my GILF website," Mr. Finch read. "And in memory of that fun night in Tunt Manor's other bathroom I leave you my favorite pocket watch."

"How many pocket watches did this man **have?** " Mallory asked. "Did the man have stock in Waltham or what?"

"Sweet!" Krieger took the watch. "How come it has a dent in it?"

"Sorry about the dent," Mr. Finch read aloud. "But that was due to an incident with Mr. Archer, a female mob boss and her daughter, a rival mob gang, some whipped cream and a lemur named Reggie."

"It happens," Krieger shrugged as he put the watch away.

"To my employer Ms. Mallory Archer," Mr. Finch read.

"Well it's about damn time," Mallory grumbled.

"For over forty years I have been your most faithful servant," Mr. Finch read. "Ever since you entered my bar in Tangiers about to give birth to your son…After killing a man."

Mr. Finch paused and looked at the others. "This is not a normal will."

"Just figured that out **now** , Perry Mason?" Pam quipped. "Keep going!"

"I have given you a lifetime's worth of faithful service," Mr. Finch said. "Trying to be the most perfect servant I can be. Keeping my silence to the family's secrets and activities and assisting you when I can. For that is my duty. To be silent."

"Good old Woodhouse," Mallory sighed as she took a drink.

"But since I am now **dead,** " Mr. Finch read. "I am technically **no longer** your employee. That means I am no longer bound by that agreement and can say whatever I want."

"Uh oh…" Mallory blinked.

"This is gonna be good," Cheryl giggled. She had put the handcuffs on herself.

"Ma'am I have kept silent and stood by you all these years," Mr. Finch read on. "And even helped you through many of your schemes and plans. Horrible schemes and plans. Extremely **horrible** terrible schemes and plans which would put fear of God even into the most hard-hearted Hun!"

Ron looked at Mallory. "Boy did that man know **you!** "

"Shut up!" Mallory snapped at her husband.

"Ma'am as far back as I have known you," Mr. Finch read. "You have been under this delusion that you are an upper-class noblewoman who deserves everything she can while doing as little as possible. Or in some cases doing as many men as possible."

"BURN!" Ray shouted and pointed at Mallory.

"Put a penis in it!" Mallory snapped.

"For years I have felt guilt and shame at all the horrible crimes and schemes I have had to be a party too but could not say anything," Mr. Finch read. "Like the times I helped you bake poisoned cookies and murder some of Master Archer's teachers."

"You did **what now**?" Ron did a double take.

"Little hint Ron," Pam said. "Don't let your wife cook you dinner anymore."

"She never cooked me dinner in the **first place!"** Ron snapped. "Which I'm starting to see as a blessing!"

"Since I could not speak up in life," Mr. Finch read. "I will do so from beyond the grave. First of all, do you remember the time you tried to blackball Trudy Beekman from the Women's League? I'm the one who warned her about your scheme."

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"I'm also the one who stopped your plan to ruin the Irish League Women's Night by telling them you were planning to make a bomb threat," Mr. Finch read.

Mallory fumed. "Why would he **do** that?"

"Why would **you** do that?" Lana snapped. "I know you hate the Irish but why…?"

"Something about them giving an award to Beekman for some stupid charity work," Mallory waved. "Who remembers? What I want to know is why Woodhouse would betray me for the Irish?"

"I suppose I never told you that my grandmother's maiden name was O'Malley?" Mr. Finch read.

"WHAT?" Mallory shouted.

"That's the reason I secretly stole from your Swiss bank account Number 3459822237 and donated the money to the Irish Orphans Fund," Mr. Finch read. "Over six million dollars!"

"WHAT?" Mallory screeched.

" _Six million dollars_ for Irish orphans?" Lana gasped.

"What the hell did he do with the **rest of it?"** Mallory shouted.

"Woodhouse was **part Irish**?" Pam was stunned. "That does explain a few things actually."

"Who **cares?** " Mallory snapped. "There was **ten million** dollars in that account! What did he do with the _rest of it?"_

"I suppose you're wondering what I did with the remaining four million dollars in that account," Mr. Finch read. "I tracked down my dear friend Reggie's family and gave them one million, making up something about insurance. And I gave another million to the Center for Sexual Disease Control. Quite fitting really considering how much of it you and your son spread among the world."

"Burn again," Ray giggled.

"That's only two million!" Mallory snapped. "What happened to **the rest?"**

"Well," Mr. Finch read. "According to this he donated one million to a heroin recovery clinic. Saying that even though he could never kick the habit he hoped that someone else would. And the other million he donated to a veteran's hospital in England!"

"Oh my God," Ray gasped. "Woodhouse is a shoo in for heaven!"

"If he wasn't before…" Cyril agreed. "You know with all the abuse he endured at the hands of Archer…"

"Oh yeah," Krieger agreed. "Definitely!"

"I also cleaned out the other Swiss account you had which held a few million dollars," Mr. Finch read. "Admittedly I used some of **that money** for some heroin and a few pills. But the rest I sent to other people secretly who deserved it more than you did. Like Brett Bunsen's family."

"WHAT?" Mallory screamed. "You gave some of **my money** to that idiot who was always getting shot and messing up my office?"

"Again, **not me** personally!" Mr. Finch gulped. "Woodhouse did! Only reading the will here!"

"And your son was the one who shot Brett all the time in the **first place** ," Pam pointed out. "And got him killed!"

"He did **what now?"** Mr. Finch did a double take.

"And you cancelled our life insurance policies so Brett's family got **nothing**!" Pam snapped. "Not even a few bucks for the funeral!"

"Did we go to that?" Cheryl asked, her hands still in the handcuffs. "I don't remember that."

"We didn't," Ray said. "We were too busy trying to sell cocaine and keeping Pam from eating it all."

"Ohhhh," Cheryl nodded. "Gotcha."

"So, my most faithful employee was stealing from me this **whole time**?" Mallory shouted. "I mean you expect some theft from servants! A spoon! A couple of oranges! Some cheese! A nickel you drop on the floor! But **millions of dollars?"**

"It says here," Mr. Finch read. "That if Ms. Archer throws a fit remind her she has **no right** to because most of that money she **stole** from the employee pension funds!"

"WHAT?" Lana glared at Mallory.

"So **that's** what happened to our pension funds!" Cyril shouted.

"You lying bitch," Ray growled at her.

 _"Awk-ward!"_ Cheryl sang in a sing song voice.

"That's pretty damn low even for you Ms. Archer," Pam said. "I was gonna retire on that money!"

"Oh please!" Mallory snapped. "You would have had a heart attack **years** before then!"

"Well at least I could have paid for a sweet funeral!" Pam shouted. "As it is I'm gonna end up in a frickin' pine box!"

"Oh Pam, no!" Cheryl said. "I would never let that happen."

"Really?" Pam asked.

"I'll personally burn your corpse and put it in a nice urn," Cheryl said. "Swearsies realsies!"

"Awwwww," Pam said. "I'm touched."

"In the head," Mallory rolled her eyes.

Mr. Finch read something else. "I also donated some of the money you stole from your employees to a gay and lesbian civil rights group. Mostly because I knew you would hate it."

"WHAT?" Mallory screamed.

"Can I have a copy of this will?" Ray asked.

"Me too!" Krieger said.

"And me!" Cyril added.

"I want one too!" Cheryl said.

"Shut up!" Mallory shouted.

"Honestly you would think to know better than to use the word Duchess for every password you have," Mr. Finch read.

"We've been telling her that for **years!"** Cheryl spoke up.

"We really have," Lana admitted.

"Let me press on, please?" Mr. Finch winced and then went on reading. "A part of me pains to do these things to you, Ma'am. There is a part of you that's not so cruel and hard hearted. Maybe if you managed to get out of the spy business sooner you would not have turned into the cold-hearted woman you are today? And we have had good times. Like that night in Buenos Aires where we made love…"

"Oh my God!" Lana groaned.

"I **KNEW** IT!" Ron pointed at Mallory. "I **KNEW** YOU HAD A FLING WITH THAT CRAZY JUNKIE!"

"We **all** knew it," Pam agreed with him.

 _"Scandalous!"_ Ray snickered.

"Woodhouse you damn blabbermouth!" Mallory screamed.

"This thing is more salacious than Lady Chatterley's Lover," Mr. Finch was scandalized.

"I know right?" Cheryl giggled. "Anything else?"

"Only the part where Woodhouse calls her a cold-hearted bitch," Mr. Finch read the will.

"Well **that** we all knew," Ray remarked.

"Zip it Missy!" Mallory snapped. "And goes for the rest of you as well unless you want to end up like Woodhouse! DEAD!"

"You and I are going to have a **long talk** about this when this is over!" Ron warned Mallory.

"Good luck with that!" Mallory folded her arms. "Is this over yet?"

"Now I will read the portion of the will addressed to Mr. Archer," Mr. Finch explained. "Apparently Mr. Woodhouse figured that you would all want to hear this part. As will Mr. Archer when he wakes up from his coma."

"He will?" Lana asked.

"It says here if Mr. Archer isn't able to be present he has to hear the whole will at a later date when he is able to comprehend it," Mr. Finch blinked. "Or as in Mr. Woodhouse's words…His head stuck out of his ass into the real world during periods of self-destructive binges of alcohol, whores and stupidity."

"This is where it's **really** going to get good," Cyril chuckled.

"To Sterling Archer…" Mr. Finch read. "You self-absorbed thick-headed twat!"

"I was right," Cyril grinned.

"I have been a loyal servant to you all my life," Mr. Finch read. "I raised you for Christ's sake! And how did you repay me? You treated me worse than the Hun treated their prisoners! You forced me to eat spider webs! Threw away my clothes and even tried to set me on fire!"

Mr. Finch paused and looked up. "This Sterling Archer does not sound like a good person."

"You have no idea," Cyril spoke up.

"I tried to raise you as best I could," Mr. Finch read. "But obviously I failed. Then again I suppose I shouldn't be surprised considering that your mother is the most flagrant and spoiled whore I have ever had the witness to observe!"

"WHAT?" Mallory screamed.

"And this is coming from a man who spent a lot of time touring whorehouses of the Orient," Mr. Finch blinked. "I'm talking years of experience with whores here. Decades actually. Just never imagined I'd work for one."

"I'd also like a copy of this will," Lana spoke up.

"Me too," Ron chuckled.

"Now that I think about it," Mr. Finch read on. "It's little surprise you turned out to be a bad penny. What with your background and that whore of a mother running around everywhere. I can however do **this!** This is from me, from the grave!"

Mr. Finch paused. "This is the part where I'm instructed to hit Mr. Archer."

"We can wait," Cyril told him.

"Just make sure you invite us," Ray added. "I'd like to film that."

"Me too," Pam grinned.

"Ditto," Lana admitted.

"However, I do feel like I must tell you something of great importance," Mr. Finch read on. "I have been giving this some thought. And I do believe that the true of identity of your father is…"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Mallory screamed as she leapt across the table and tackled Mr. Finch.

"Oh, come on!" Pam snapped.

"GIVE ME THAT!" Mallory screamed as she tore the will from Mr. Finch's grasp after punching him out. With frenzied fury she tore the will into tiny pieces. "AAAAAA! DIE YOU BASTARD!"

"Aw man," Krieger said. "I wanted to know that!"

"Really?" Cheryl snapped. "You're going to drag this out **too?"**

 **"** You're **dead** to me!You hear that Woodhouse?"Mallory screamed as she tore the papers. "YOU ARE DEAD TO ME!"

"Well since he's **literally** dead…" Krieger began.

"You can't **do** this!" Mr. Finch shouted as Mallory grabbed the scraps and threw them into a wastebasket.

"Watch me!" Mallory snarled as she took out a lighter from her purse and set the wastebasket on fire.

"EEEEEEEEE!" Cheryl squealed with glee. She had removed the handcuffs from one hand and let them dangle on the other.

"There she goes!" Ron groaned.

"Oh, for crying out…" Lana groaned. "Ray!"

"On it!" Ray used his super speed to grab the nearest fire extinguisher and put it out.

"Doesn't matter!" Mallory shouted. "It's gone forever!"

"You know we have copies of the will back at the office?" Mr. Finch snapped.

"Which you are going to **change!** " Mallory pulled out her gun from her purse. "If you ever want to see another sunrise!"

"Mallory no!" Lana ran over and fought her for the gun.

BANG!

The gun went off and the shot barely missed Mr. Finch. "DEAR GOD!" Mr. Finch shouted as the bullet smashed into a picture.

"Can't have nice things," Cyril sighed.

"Tell me about it," Ron groaned. "You should have seen what she did to our bedroom when I threw her out!"

"YOU PEOPLE ARE **INSANE**!" Mr. Finch screamed as he ran away. "EVEN FOR AMERICANS!"

"Technically I'm German," Krieger called out.

"That doesn't help Krieger," Ray looked at him.

"How about helping **me?** " Lana snapped as she was still fighting with Mallory for the gun.

"Oh right," Pam said as she went to help Lana.

Cyril ran to the door. "Mr. Finch! Please consider the Figgis Agency for any future work your agency might need! Mr. Finch?"

 _"Really?"_ Ray looked at Cyril.

"Well it couldn't hurt to ask!" Cyril told him.

"I'm asking for one of you numb nuts to help us here!" Pam snapped as they fought Mallory. "She's fighting like she's got tiger blood!"

"JUST LET ME SHOOT HIM!" Mallory screamed as Lana took the gun away.

BANG!

"There goes another picture," Cyril groaned as another picture was shot. "I actually liked that one!"

"Who are you going to shoot Mallory?" Lana snapped. "Woodhouse?"

"YES!" Mallory screamed. "AND ANYONE ELSE IN MY WAY!"

"And that is my cue to **leave!** " Ron ran out of the room.

"I'LL KILL THEM ALL!" Mallory screamed as she fought.

"KRIEGER!" Pam shouted. "DART GUN! NOW!"

"Oh right," Krieger blinked. He pulled out a tranquillizer gun from his coat pocket.

Lana and Pam got out of the way. "You…" Mallory began before Krieger shot her with a dart in the neck. "Seriously?"

Krieger shot her again in the shoulder. And again in the arm. "RRRAARRRR!" Mallory snarled as she turned on Krieger.

"She's out of control!" Krieger shot her again, this time in the chest.

"Rrrrrrrrrraaaaaaammmmp…" Mallory began.

THWACK!

"Page?" Mallory blinked as Pam whacked Mallory with her own purse in the back of the head. She went down.

"What does she have in this purse?" Pam blinked at it. "Bricks?"

"Better tranq her again," Cyril said.

"On it!" Krieger shot her in the back two more times. "And just to be sure we should get some absinthe down her throat."

"On it!" Cheryl said cheerfully as she went to get some from a cabinet.

"You just gave Ms. Archer enough tranquilizers to knock out an elephant," Ray said. "You think the absinthe is enough?"

"Good point," Krieger shot Mallory again. "And…" He took out a small pill. "A little Forget Me Now to smooth things over…"

"And some absinthe to wash it down," Cheryl helped Krieger put the pill in Mallory's mouth and poured some alcohol down her throat.

"Well **that** went well," Cyril said sarcastically.

"I don't know," Pam shrugged. "I think Ms. Archer held out longer than I thought she would."

"How much of this you think she's going to remember?" Ray asked.

"Honestly I'd be surprised if she remembered **anything at all** ," Krieger shrugged. "Don't be too shocked if she talks about Woodhouse with great fondness again."

"I'm going home," Lana sighed as she left the room. "I've had my limit of crazy for the day."

"It's not even ten thirty!" Cyril snapped.

"Exactly," Lana said as she left.

"But Lana!" Cyril pouted. "What about work? What about your job? What about…? Who the hell am I **kidding**? I'm **out** of here!" Cyril left the room.

"A half day sounds great," Pam said. "But what do we do with **her**?" She pointed to Mallory.

"What we always do when she goes on a bender," Ray said as he helped remove the darts from Mallory's body. "Stick her in the office. Put out a bunch of pills and empty bottles of booze so she thinks she did it to herself. When she comes to just deny everything."

"It is a good system," Pam admitted.

"So's hers," Krieger pointed at Mallory. "This woman's tolerance for drugs and booze is amazing."

"What's more amazing is how strong my tolerance is for this shit I've been putting up with all these years," Ray admitted.


End file.
